


Every Step You Take.

by CALLEN37



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Secrets, Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1221865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CALLEN37/pseuds/CALLEN37
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set the day after episode 100. Callen clears Reinhardt's home looking for any more pictures, he finds something more revealing. Set mostly from Reinhardts' POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Callen woke late that day, he'd been up the night before watching and re-watching the 8mm cine film of his sister, his father and himself as a baby, wishing there was sound so he could have heard his mother's laughter that he was sure was behind the camera and the voice of his father, gathering every clue he could as to his family.

He'd called Hetty and asked for the day off. She had been worried that he was breaking, but after a long chat he had convinced her he was fine but there was something he needed to do.

He walked up to the house and removed the police tape.

Closing the door he looked around, the bloodstained message still on the wall. The finger, thank God, long since removed.

He needed to make sure there were no other pictures of him here; Nothing that would burn him.

He had already checked the bedroom, but he walked down the hall and found a small study. Photos of Michael Reinhardt were everywhere, there were a few of him in a frame in the study, one of him in a scruffy, second-hand, school uniform and one of him as a teen in a graduation cap and gown. He was smiling in neither, as both had been taken for school record purposes only and he knew it, there were no smiles in his photos for loved ones. He had none.

He rifled through the drawers wondering if somewhere in this house was a clue to where his father really was.

He sat at the desk and went through the drawers one by one, receipts, airline tickets…no clues there… he went to shut the drawer. But it caught on something and wouldn't shut; he reached his hand back and pulled out a stack of brown leather books, four of them.

He took them in the living room, but took another look at the wall, he couldn't stay there, so he went back into Reinhardt's bedroom remembering the armchair in the corner of the room, he switched on a lamp and opened the book.

* * *

1975

France.

I'm not sure how often I will write this, whether I will be giving this to you, Nikita. I wish I had been told your son's name; your son and daughter are huddled in the corner of my motel room. They have been crying non-stop for three days. It took us three days on a train to travel from Romania to France. We are awaiting a ferry to England; from there we will be catching a plane back to my home in America. I am and will always keep my promise to you to watch over them both and keep them safe until God-willing you may all be reunited.

My heart breaks for G and Amy. Amy more, she will remember her mother and father and know what she has missed, as for your son, G…I wish you had told me your son's name, G was the name Amy called him. I didn't get to their mother in time after the frantic call I had from you Nikita, the KGB were coming for you, you couldn't leave as you were being watched and you begged me to save your family.

After you had saved mine, how could I refuse?

My heart stopped that day on the beach as I watched your beautiful wife get gunned down. Your son stood on that beach and screamed, a more heart wrenching sound I had never before heard and never wanted to hear again. I hope I never will.

I grabbed your children and pushed them screaming into my car, I felt awful leaving your wife there, but I had to save your children I owed you that much, I promise you I will protect them with my life if necessary.

* * *

Callen paused and wiped a tear from his face at reading of his mother's death and he and his sisters flight from Romania. He looked for more books, finding a box full he put them all together and taking them with him left the house.

He didn't want to go home with them, and he couldn't go to ops… he needed somewhere where he felt safe to read them, so he picked up his phone.

"It's me…I found something, I need to deal with it…Can I go to your house, I need…" he found he couldn't say what he needed but somehow, as always, she knew what he needed.

"Go home Mr. Callen. I will be there later tonight, we will eat and if you wish, we will talk."

Callen sighed and smiled, although she couldn't see it. "Thank you." He turned his car in the direction of Hetty's house and headed there.

Taking the key off his key ring he let himself into the large house he had, while recuperating from his gunshot wounds, called home.

He went to the room Hetty had set apart for him, climbed onto the big comfy bed piling all the books around him in year order, five years to a book. The book he had originally started just said 1975 – 80 on the spine.

He found where he had left off, went out of the room again, grabbed a bottle of water and a sandwich from Hetty's kitchen and went back into his room and locked the door.

He switched his phone off and settled back to read.

* * *

We have arrived in America.

Amy loved the plane ride over, she asked questions and the air hostess allowed her to go up and see the pilots. She brought back a small airplane which she gave to her baby brother; he spent the rest of flight making the plane fly.

I am worried about him Nikita, your daughter speaks English, albeit with an accent, but your son hasn't said a word since we left. He still cries, I have heard him; however he does not cry or show emotion in front of me.

We travelled to a small house owned by a friend of mine; you may remember him, Arkady Kolcheck. He has agreed to help me hide the children so they will be safe.

Amy fell asleep as soon as we got in the car for the ride to Arkady's home, G stared out of the window the whole way, and I do not think he has slept since we got on the plane. He reminds me so much of you Nikita, he seems to be memorizing his way home although he still is not talking. He seems to understand Arkady and climbed on his lap as he was talking in Russian, he trusts him although I think instinctively it was you he was seeking.

Finally after listening to Arkady talk to someone on the phone he finally allowed himself to fall asleep, Arkady seemed to take to the boy and I know he would have taken him in if it wasn't for his more questionable associates I would have allowed your son to stay with him.

We have an appointment with a friend of Arkady's who works in Child welfare; we will be able to place the children in the welfare system. They cannot be adopted as we have not had their birth certificates and they should always be available for when you can make it to America to find them. Arkady will be having American certificates made up for them.

We will give them their mother's surname so it is easy for you to find them, Reznikov is too Russian and it will stand out, Callen, Clara's maiden name is more American and they should be able to assimilate.

I will be putting them in a group home, I will keep them together as much as possible. I hope they will have a healthy and settled life until your problems and Clara's family feud are ended and you can be reunited with your family once again.

* * *

Callen sat back and took a sip of his water.

His heart hurt at the fact that they would never again be reunited as a family. But he was also shocked at the closeness he had apparently felt as a child with his old friend Arkady. He had thought they had first met on that operation in Serbia, but now he knew that was wrong. He knew he had known Reinhardt, but he had no idea that Arkady had met himself as a child. Although it did explain why he had instantly trusted the man when he had met him, in spite of the fact that he was a Russian mobster.

He turned the page.

1978

She's dead…Nikita, my friend I am so sorry.

(There were dried tear stains on the page.)

I was again too late and I failed you.

Amy was in a group home, and she had made a friend as was getting along so well. Amy and Hannah were the best of friends. I would visit from afar and watch them play together. They snuck out at night I saw her once, she would go to the river and tell Hannah about her baby brother. They would look at the stars and sneak back in.

There was a vicious rain storm 2 nights ago, I knew that Amy would plan on sneaking out, but I got delayed in traffic, by the time I arrived there Hannah, her friend was screaming on the bank of the river. I looked, God how I looked I ran down stream and searched for days.

Hannah had her own demons to hide from; I wrapped her in Amy's old jacket and took her back to the orphanage. I found out that she was mistaken for Amy. She climbed into Amy's bed and became her. I have no wish to out the poor child who has been through so much, so I have buried your Amy under her name Hannah Lawson.

This also means that in death the child will be kept safe from your enemies.

The post mortem said that she was hit on the head by a log or a branch and drowned. It was an accident, but I will be keeping an eye on her final resting place, she will rest in peace and I pray she has been reunited with Clara and they have found peace.

Your son I am watching, he has been moved many times, some not so successful, I am watching out for him where possible. A few times he has been placed with families that have not been suitable, I have when I can reported these families and had G moved as soon as possible. I do hope that he will find a family with which to settle down.

I am as always keeping a note of each and every address, so when you need to find your son, I will know where he is.

* * *

Callen sighed as he read about his sister's death. It was sad for him to realize that his sister had died alone, thrashing about for air in a river.

He stopped as a wave of grief for the sister he couldn't remember washed over him.

He closed the book and took a drink and a few bites of his sandwich. He really didn't feel like eating, but he knew that Hetty would notice if he hadn't eaten and then she would worry.

He opened the book again and turned to a new page and his appetite fled.

1980.

G is in Bakersfield. I checked the woman out, she is a nice lady. However I was not given any information about her husband.

I have been calling child welfare for a week; his social worker is away right now. I am so worried about him. She is feeding him, but she works nights at a local diner. A few times I have seen G run from the house and cower as he is beaten at the man's hands. It is so hard. I am so close and want to help especially when I hear him cry and see the bruises later.

This is the first house where he has been physically beaten. He is a very withdrawn child, he doesn't talk much. But his eyes…Nikita those eyes look like they have the weight of the world in them. His eyes are so like yours, deep blue, but he has Clara's heart. He will defend children younger than himself. He's a fighter Nikita you would be proud of him. I am hopeful he will be moved as soon as possible.

He refuses to fit in, I think deep down he is missing you both but I am concerned, I had hoped that he would remember his name, he has seen various psychologists and so far he hasn't been able to remember and they cannot break through the wall that is around his memories. Amy is not here for me to ask. I wish you would get in contact with me Nikita; your boy needs you so much.

He has finally been moved.

He attacked his foster father last night, I had called the police, and G ran into the yard as his foster father beat him again with the broom. Finally he snapped. Unfortunately the police arrived as your ten-year-old son had taken the broom handle and was beating his foster father with it. I sent a note to the police station to say that an anonymous passerby saw what happened, the charges against G were dropped. I am hoping that he will settle in the next home he is sent to.

* * *

Callen lay back and closed his eyes as the memory washed over him for the second time in two days. The first time had been when Deeks had shown him the picture of his ten-year-old self.

He realized that he had read the whole book. He wanted to walk away now…if Reinhardt had been watching him all these years the next two books would not be fun reading, however these were in effect evidence, if he read them and gave an edited report to Hetty maybe no one else would have to.

He stood up and walked around the bed getting a breather he really needed. He looked at his phone, 3 missed calls from Sam, 2 from Deeks and by extension Kensi, 4 from Nell and 4 from Eric. He smiled at how much he knew they cared. He knew if it was urgent Hetty would call him on the house phone by the bed. So he decided that calling them back could wait.

Looking out of the window at the spacious gardens beneath he wondered again, if his father would ever read these, or if after reading them himself Callen would just hide them, like he was wont to do with the most important things in his life. His mother's picture, his high school diploma, (for him a reminder that he had made it out of the system alive), a picture of him and Alaina, his first birthday card, his heart. All but the last item was in a box. Not the box on the mantel piece as his teammates thought, all the items in there were reproductions. But a box under the floorboard in the corner of the room he had occupied as a child.

He grabbed the book and moved to a large wing backed chair in the corner. Taking a drink he picked up the next book.

* * *

1980 – 85.

1982.

Callen, as he is now called by his foster carers and social workers, is turning out to be a handful of a teenager; and a bit of a heartbreaker.

He's taken up football; he's a fast runner and has a following amongst the girls in school. He doesn't mix with them though.

He has nice foster parents; a young couple who are committed in helping him succeed.

I am not sure about his social worker, he is an older man who seems to be focused on targets rather than the children in his charge…I am having Arkady look into him. In the two years since the incident in Bakersfield, Callen has grown into his own.

You would be so proud of the young man he has become. He has on a few occasions broken up school fights saving younger children from bullies. He is still a loner, he does not mix with the other children yet if they are in trouble most seem to know that Callen is the boy to go to, much like you were Nikita, your son is going to be the sort of man to help others, I can see this in his demeanor.

He has been moved again, I tried with all my resources to get it stopped; this has not been a good move for him.

The new family is not good Nikita, my heart breaks when I see him, he is with a family where the mother is out all day, she works as a cleaner in a warehouse, she drinks at night as does the father who is out of the army with a mental disorder, they did not disclose this on the paperwork…even now I am fighting for an investigation, but without revealing who I am, I am having trouble getting them to listen to me.

There is an older boy, Jason I believe his name is, he is trying to protect the younger ones. Callen is regularly kept home from school….My God Nikita…you should hear him scream…I have not heard sounds like that since…since Clara died.

I have called his social worker, who is constantly unavailable. I have called the police; they come to the house and leave. I have seen him once since he was allocated to that house. He slipped outside at two o'clock in the morning. To Smoke….he is thirteen and he is smoking. I hope this doesn't continue, but he looked so thin, he was bruised and when the older boy Jason snuck out and touched him…Oh Nikita…he jumped and scrambled away, I need to get him moved, I am going to have Arkady help, we cannot as you know for the boy's sake reveal ourselves but if that man just disappeared…maybe they will get your son the help he needs.

We did not get there on time, Callen is safe, he is in the local hospital being treated for trauma, but he is alive, his friend Jason however is not. I was told a gunshot was heard at the house, that…man…he was…hurting our boy…I….I cannot write here what he was doing, but Nikita I know this is not what you hoped for when you asked me to watch over your children. But his friend Jason tried to stop the foster father, the mother was screaming and hitting Callen while the man, he shot at him. According to the reports Jason stood in the way and took the bullet. Both adults have been arrested, Arkady is working on getting them out so a more…permanent…solution is found for them, the social worker has been fired. Arkady will not be dealing with him as directly, however in the space of one day the man lost his home, his family and his job and as of last night was sleeping under a bridge. I will make sure he never goes within a hundred feet of Callen ever again.

I have just returned from visiting Callen, I was dressed as a janitor. He is not talking again, and eyes are distrustful. He would not look at me as I walked in but he focused on my feet, whenever I stepped near he moved back. I tried talking to him. Nothing. I fear all the good work that was done to help him has been undone by this man. He has multiple fractures to his body, he whimpered when he tried to move whilst still keeping quiet. I left the room and I cried Nikita…I fear now for the sanity of your boy

* * *

Callen threw the book on the bed, this was not a time he wanted to remember so he walked over to the dresser in the corner, changed into a set of sweats he knew he had left in there.

Grabbing his old sneakers from the bottom of the wardrobe he unhooked the key for the house and went for a run, hoping that by the time he got back he would be in a better frame of mind to continue.

 


	2. Chapter 2

He ran for over an hour.

Sometimes slow, mostly sprinting until he couldn't breathe anymore.

He walked back up to the house, noting, with a hint of satisfaction that Hetty hadn't broken off her day to come and check on him and he walked slowly up the stairs and hit the shower that was ensuite to the room he was using.

He dried and dressed, all the while staring at the book on the bed.

He wanted to skip over some of the years written in this journal. However, as he had already thought, it was evidence, either he read it or others did. More than anything he didn't want his life to be aired like some dirty laundry, for the whole team to see, having them pour through pictures of his life was bad enough, this…this in-depth look into the dark recesses of his childhood was almost too much for even him to bear and he had lived through it.

He took a sip of water and grabbed the book like it was a hated enemy and then he sat back down in the chair, took a deep breath and opened it.

* * *

1983

He's gone…His foster parents woke up this morning; he got up and left the house.

It is his birthday; I had hoped to arrange for someone to offer to buy him his favorite breakfast like I have done for the past few years, a way of doing something for him.

But he did not get off the school bus at the usual stop. I followed the bus back to the depot, sat and watched it for two hours expecting him to clamber out of the back of the bus and take an unauthorized day off again, but there was no sign. I called the school, he hadn't turned up. I alerted his social worker and have been looking at all the haunts that he usually hangs out at.

Nothing.

I know he had been distracted; he has been going to a therapist after his attack late last year. He has come out of himself somewhat, but there is a lot he keeps guarded, hidden and he won't talk about it.

I am worried that the Comescu's or your enemies have found him although there has been no chatter on the wire from any of your enemies and Arkady hasn't heard anything. I will look until I find him and can confirm he is safe.

It has been a month, police are on the alert, as alert as they will be for a 14 year old run away. Child services are looking for him; welfare workers are 'keeping an eye out'.

A few times I have caught a glimpse of him, or at least I have thought so, once on the pier at Santa Monica.

* * *

Nikita….I FOUND HIM!

It has been six long months but I found him and he is alive.

He is safe; he was running with a group of street kids.

They stole some corn dogs and ran off. I paid the vendor for what they stole. He looks happy and free.

I loathe putting him back in the system; however he does need to go back to school. I know more than anything you would want what is best for your son, and where I can, I intend to make sure he gets the opportunities he needs.

I think I have narrowed down where he is sleeping at nights, I will be going again tonight to make sure I am right before I inform the authorities.

I found where he was sleeping…Oh Nikita my friend, he was in a sorry state; he had stolen a loaf of bread from a bakers shop, some of the larger kids chased him down and beat him for it, he is in the hospital again, with a broken arm and some fractured ribs, some of the doctors were talking, I think he may have experimented with drugs, although I cannot get a confirmation on that, he is still smoking.

I called the police and ambulance as soon as I saw them beating on him, he looked so lost as the medics took him away. There was another small child with him, a little girl I think. She seemed to cling to him and he fought as they were separated. I am looking into finding out who this child is and seeing if I can help her.

* * *

Callen fought back the tears as he remembered the incident, Emily…he wondered what had happened to her, he remembered her screams as the other kids had tried to take the food he'd acquired for her, he remembered her smiles as he held her throughout the cold nights and she tried to not scream as the nightmares came. Moreover he remembered the day he found her and rescued her from the brute of a man who called himself her owner. He had just picked her up and run through the streets with her as she clung to him for safety. He had met Emily in a foster home when she had been three, she knew this man wasn't her father, and he had been beating her outside the back of a shop as she had been too scared to enter.

Over time she had told Callen her story and he had vowed to keep her secret and keep her safe. Until that day he'd done a good job.

He made a mental note to look Emily up after this was all over.

Callen turned back to the book.

* * *

He is being released from hospital today; I have managed to look in on him a few times, mostly as a doctor. My disguise is getting better my friend you would be proud.

His notes say he is healing well, he asked about the little girl; she has been placed with nice family; who have begun proceedings to adopt her.

Apparently Callen was told but he did not acknowledge the fact.

A few times medical staff has been in to tend to him and he's been found asleep under the bed, a habit he might have picked up from foster care.

I have found out he has a new social worker, a woman this time. I have met her under the guise of being Callen's doctor.

She is very committed to helping him settle with a good family.

She has found a family for him to stay with, they are a good Russian family, I am hoping that he will settle with them, Anatoly and Nadia Rostoff and their daughter Alina, Anatoly was a miner in the old country, he is from a small town called Karma, it is not very far from where Callen was born. I have checked the family out and they are good people Nikita.

Callen is being released today, he is wary of the new family, but I have no doubt that Nadia's homemade Bliny, rye bread and her friendly manner will soon rub off on our boy. I will, as always be nearby for the first 24hours.

I met Callen once when he was small, the one time I brought his birthday breakfast and told him, if he sleeps well the first night in a new home, it is a good home. I do believe that he took the advice to heart, I hope so anyway.

It has been three days, I heard a sound I never believed I would from him.

Nikita, I was outside the back fence and he was in the garden with the daughter, Alina and he was laughing. Not the fake, half hearted laughs I have heard before, but a full on truly happy laugh. I sat and I cried, Nikita, he is 14 and yet it is the first time I have heard your son laugh.

It was truly a beautiful moment, I imagined what he would have been like had he grown with you and Clara.

I am sad for the amount that has been lost, but still inside there are the makings of a great man Nikita and you would be proud. He is relearning Russian with them. The family has no idea this is his native language and is surprised at how quickly he is picking it up. It is also bolstering his self esteem. The closeness he has with Alina is endearing, he takes her to school and to the park.

He is gaining weight with Nadia's cooking that is not surprising, and his grades have improved in school. I am hoping this placement will be for a while.

* * *

Callen closed the book, smiling. For the first time, happy memories were surfacing. His month and a half with the Rostoffs, and playing with Alina. Memories he hadn't thought of since Hetty brought the home he now lived in. He hadn't realized that he hadn't laughed until he was placed with them. He closed his eyes and thought about Nadia's cooking and sniffed smelling what he thought was her food.

He put the book down and looked over the railing outside his room.

Hetty looked up from the sofa on the floor below.

"Ah, Mr. Callen. I assume you have finished your reading?" she asked.

Callen shook his head, "Not yet Hetty. I have more books, but I think I am finished for today," he said as he jogged down the wooden staircase towards her.

Hetty stood, brushed down her top and placed her book on the table.

"What are you reading?" he asked.

"Journey to the west, in the original Mandarin." She smiled as he lifted up her tray with her teapot and china cup and saucer sitting on it.

"Something smells good?" he said taking the tray and walking into the kitchen with it.

Hetty smiled, "I hope you like it, my Borscht, and it is your mother's recipe…I thought after today, you could use it."

Callen looked at her and put the tray down. "Thank you." He said softly and bent down, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek.

"Come, sit…I will serve you up a bowl, and if you wish, we can talk about what you found," Hetty said and then caught the look on Callen's face. "Or not…" she amended.

"I will Hetty, I will, but I need to finish the whole thing, I know they are evidence and I will give you and overview later." Callen said. He picked up the cup of tea Hetty had set before him and yawned.

"You have had a busy day Mr. Callen, Eat and then you may stay the night. Hetty said smiling as Callen nodded his agreement.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Callen woke up and stretched, he was in a familiar comfortable bed.

Hetty's…He smiled as he remembered her talking to him late into the night, memories of his mother that she'd imparted, nothing startling, just small things starting with her love of cooking, her favorite perfume, (Of which Hetty had a small used bottle which she gave him, so he could have a sense of what his mother smelled like.) Her favorite gun and how she and Hetty had on occasion tried to outdo each other on the range. Descriptions of her laugh, her smile, the pride in her voice when she had told Hetty about her children. Things that would not mean much to others but to Callen every morsel had been savored like a starving man.

He had dreamt about her last night, she had sat with him as he had reach Reinhardt's diary, soothing him, crying at some places laughing at others; Just holding him as and when he needed holding reminding him he was not alone.

This morning he felt refreshed and ready to read more, knowing he had Hetty and his team to have his back.

He walked downstairs as Hetty was cleaning up after her breakfast.

"Good morning Mr. Callen, I left you a meal in the microwave." She said with a small shudder at the fact she actually owed one of those abominations.

Callen smiled, "I was just going to have coffee." He admitted.

She shook her head, "You may not be coming into the office, Mr. Callen, but I think we can both agree that it will be a very challenging day for you nonetheless and I feel a good breakfast is key to a good day." She said and pointed to the microwave which contained a cooked breakfast of Eggs, bacon, mushrooms, pancakes, sausages and hash browns.

Callen looked wide eyed, "I have to eat all of this?" he asked stunned.

Hetty grabbed her keys and handbag.

"All of it Mr. Callen, busy day." She said and left a very bemused agent staring at the biggest plate of food he'd ever seen in his life.

He put the plate on the table and looked after his boss, "I'm gonna get as big as Sam." He said with a grin as he shook his head and sat down to eat.

* * *

He stood up after eating, washed up and put away his things and turned to see the diaries stacked neatly on the coffee table in the large sunny living room.

He smiled at Hetty's foresight and picked up the one book he hadn't wanted to read.

1984 – 85

Nikita for your son today was a sad day.

He had to be moved from the one family where he had grown so much.

Mrs. Rostoff had cancer; she hadn't told anyone believing instead that she would be able to control it by diet and new age means.

Callen had woken up late, as Anatoli and Alina had gone for a father daughter shopping trip. According to the reports he walked into the kitchen to find her unconscious on the kitchen floor.

He called the paramedics and was found sitting with her holding her hand and talking to her until the paramedics arrived and took her away.

It was another hour he was alone in that house before his social worker turned up, I was not happy the look of utter bereavement on Callen's face as he walked alone out of the house was heartbreaking.

The worker had called Mr. Rostoff and told him to stay away with his daughter while they removed him. Callen looked totally lost.

I was shocked by the attitude of the neighbors who watched as he was led away. They seemed to think he had killed her. I tried putting some of them right, but the police did take statements from some of them although they did say to me that they were not charging him, it was more to keep the neighbors happy.

* * *

Callen sat back shocked, he remembered finding Mrs. Rostoff on the floor that day and the looks of horror and pity and sadness on the neighbors faces as he walked out the front door to the car.

He was heartbroken when she had died and he had wanted to get to say goodbye to Alina and her father.

The thought now that they may have died thinking he had killed Alina's mother hurt him deeply.

He took a moment to put the book down, walking to one of Hetty's large windows he opened it and let the warm Californian air breeze over his skin as if he was being comforted by an unseen being.

He sat back down and picked the book up.

* * *

Nikita, it has been a month since the tragic death of his last foster mother. Callen is refusing to go into any home environment right now; preferring instead to stay in orphanages or group homes. I sent a file through to his social worker, suggesting different therapists but so far he has managed to annoy every one he's seen.

(Callen smiled at that.)

I am hoping that he will forgive himself, even though he didn't do anything, and allow himself back into a family style environment as soon as possible.

I went to Callen's end of year graduation this year.

(Callen pulled out an old photograph of him looking bored at his graduation; it was taken from far away)

As usual, he looks like he'd rather be anywhere but there. I know you'd be proud of him, apparently this is not the first year he was offered Valedictorian but he declined saying that it would be better for another child to have the honor. I know you have copies of his transcripts for each year and you will see he's been offered it three years in a row.

From what I can tell he sees the other students who have loved ones at these things and feels that they would get a 'kick' (His word not mine Nikita) out of having a child with a parent get the honor as he thinks no one cares whether or not he graduates.

Last year he managed to just pick up his certificate after the event having broken into the system and wiped his name off the roster. He waited until the parents were busy congratulating their children and went up to the principal and quietly picked up his certificate.

He's so smart, he pulls in straight A's and is usually on the honor roll, his excuse being he has nothing better to do than study. He does not give off the air of a high achiever and will help other students who are struggling. I have seen him find some of the kids and help them after school in the big apple tree outside the main building.

I am hoping he thinks about going to college, I have been working on a fund to pay his way through college and when he shows an interest in which one he wants to go to, he will find he has a full scholarship.

I have seen a number of pamphlets, for UCLA, Boston College and possibly MIT. I am hoping he picks Boston; it is near where I have another house and will make it easier to keep watch on him. But it is his decision, I know education was an important thing to you and I know you will be pleased to hear that your son is working hard and will despite his disadvantages so far have as many advantages I can slip to him, without compromising his safety or yours.

He has another two years to go before college and I am hoping before then he finds the perfect foster parents to help him out and encourage him on the right path.

More than anything Nikita, I hope to hear him laugh again.

* * *

Callen closed the book and took a break for lunch. He walked into the kitchen opening the fridge looking for a bottle of water when he noticed a wrapped plate of sandwiches.

'Lunch Mr. Callen – eat it. Hetty!' he saw written on a note on the plate.

He smiled as he picked it up, still thinking about Mrs. Rostoff, he picked at the sandwich and then he picked up the phone.

"Hetty…Can I ask you a question?" he asked.

"Of course, Mr. Callen." She replied.

"Is there a police report…was I accused of killing Mrs. Rostoff?" he asked.

Hetty looked up his juvenile file, knowing her computer was not linked to the main NCIS grid. "No, Mr. Callen, there were a few neighbors at the time that had that opinion, but it was not entertained by the police department."

"And…Mr. Rostoff?" he wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

Hetty smiled, "Mr. Rostoff did not blame you, he tried to get you back as a foster child numerous times, but he was declined as a single parent and I believe at that time you were refusing to go into a fostering environment."

Callen nodded.

"Be assured Mr. Callen, they held no ill will towards you, Now I suggest you stop staring at that sandwich and eat it, I believe you still have one more book to read today." She said.

Callen laughed, "You are right as usual Hetty. I will eat, rest and get back to it after lunch." He assured her.

He looked at the book sitting on the coffee table. "Later." He said to the book, picked up the sandwich and the drink and walked out onto the patio, he was going to take his break and enjoy Hetty's garden in the sunshine.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Callen went back to the summer room in Hetty's house and carried on reading.

This summer has been a strained one for your son.

Reinhardt wrote to Nikita as Callen settled back in the large armchair he was sitting from and rubbed the bridge of his nose, he knew what was coming and wished he hadn't had to read this book. But if he wouldn't then the team would have to.

Callen has been unsettled since his last placement, he didn't want to go into a home environment, but all the group homes were full and they insisted.

I watched with an unsettled feeling as Callen grabbed that green bag that has become his lifeline of late and held it tight to his chest as he walked towards the house.

A large brute of a man opened the door to him. I was worried by the look in the man's eye as he opened the door, he was nice and polite to the Child Protection Worker, but every time her attention was taken by something else this man looked up and down your boy like he was a piece of meat. I am going to run and in-depth check on him.

My heart broke as I watched the worker drive off and Callen staring out of the window. The look on his face as a large hand grabbed his head and pulled him away from the window by his hair.

I waited, but heard nothing from inside the house, so I hoped that Callen had just been sent to his room, I was so wrong…

Callen threw the book down in frustration Reinhardt had been there, he could have stopped it.

He angrily swiped the moisture that was collecting in his eyes, he was right he couldn't read that volume.

"If you need some more time alone?" Hetty said to him standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" Callen asked incredulously. It didn't seem that long since they had been talking on the phone.

"I assume you are just now reaching the time you were placed with Mr. Pike." She said.

Callen nodded, "I…I can't read this one."

Hetty nodded in understanding, "Yet you will have to. If you do not want the others to read it."

"You wouldn't!" Callen said looking shocked and surprisingly for him, scared.

"I do not want to anymore than you do Mr. Callen. But the evidence has to be read and the summary written into the report." She said.

"NO!" Callen snapped, "Not this…Not this one…" he shook his head and walked away from the book as Hetty picked it up and held it in her hand.

* * *

"Do you wish me to contact someone, Nate or Sam maybe?" Hetty offered.

Callen slumped down on the couch shaking his head, "I had almost forgotten about him." He said his voice the barest whisper.

Hetty sat next to him and reached out touching his hand, Callen grasped it like a lifeline.

"I knew something was wrong, he was shooting me looks as I was dropped off."

Hetty placed the book back into his hands and Callen opened the book, but told her about it anyway.

"As soon as the door closed, he grabbed me and pulled me back into the room." He said his eyes focused on the weave of the probably genuine Persian rug.

"John Pike?" Hetty asked.

Callen nodded, "There were no other kids in the house, I didn't see his wife, so I assumed she was shopping or at work." He said.

"And in reality?" Hetty asked.

"She had left him a month before, he'd been caught in…in bed with one of his foster kids and she left him."

"And the girl he was with?" Hetty asked.

"It wasn't a girl." Callen said flatly.

"Oh!" Hetty said as Callen grabbed the book and headed back to the chair in the summer room and opened it, Hetty was right it was better he read it than others.

It has been three weeks since anyone has seen Callen, it is summer vacation here, so he has not been at school and no one has seen him out, his social worker is on her own vacation and yet the feeling in my gut is that something is wrong, very, very wrong.

I tried calling at the house, in the guise of a utility worker, John Pike answered the door, turned out he really did have a water leak. The house inside was immaculate, but there was no sign of Callen, until I asked to go upstairs to check the pipes in the attic. I think that luck was with me as his phone rang and I was left to find the attic myself.

Obviously I started looking in the rooms; I got to a room on the end with a lock on the outside of the door. Picking the lock I walked in to see a sight that chilled me to the bone. Your son, beaten, battered, nearly naked chained to a bed by a manacle to his ankle. This alone should have scared me, but no, it was the glazed high expression on his face and the needle sticking out of his arm.

He didn't notice I was there and I backed out quickly and headed to the attic lest Mr. Pike found me there.

I called the police and made my report, by the time I was leaving the police were pulling up outside the house.

I pulled up down the road a little way and watched as Pike was dragged out kicking and screaming and Callen was brought out by the paramedics.

My blood ran cold as they stopped and had to resuscitate him right there on the front lawn, with the neighbors and police watching.

* * *

Oh Nikita, I have been to the hospital to see him, he is addicted to Heroin, watching him in the locked room crying and screaming for the drug is breaking my heart. He is in so much pain, when he's given his methadone, he did say he didn't want to take the drug; he had been forced to by Pike. The doctors say that the withdrawals should ease in time and eventually it will pass from his system but the poor boy is so afraid of needles now that he cries every time someone with a needle enters the room.

I have something else to report…but I really do not want to be the one to tell you, there are no words that I can use to express my regret at being the one to tell you this…they ran a rape kit on your boy, it came back positive.

I am so sorry.

There is something else; I am not sure exactly what when on in that house, but when I looked into Callen's' eyes, there was something…different. I was worried this had broken your boy, but no…it is different, he is harder, more determined…He has set his mind on something, I don't know what it is, but by the look in his eyes I think he will get it.

Callen sighed with relief; Reinhardt had got the bare bones of what had happened to him in there.

He himself did not remember it all except for the endless pain after he had been taken from there and his burning desire to bring evil to justice.

He found himself crying with the memories he did have and when he looked up, he was surprised to find it was dark and that Hetty had come in and draped a blanket over his shoulders.

"Are you alright Mr. Callen?" Hetty asked sitting next to him.

Callen nodded, "It was a long time ago Hetty." He replied taking the cup of tea she offered him.

"Sometimes, if you haven't dealt with something from long ago, it can create a rift in your future." She said to him.

Callen sipped the tea, "You know as well as I do I did extensive therapy from that time."

"I do know," she said cryptically, "But if there is anything else you'd care to share, between you and me, I am willing to listen."

Callen looked over at her, there was no malice nor was there any teasing in her words, just the desire to help out…a friend?

Callen looked at the few books left on the table.

"That was the worst of it," he admitted, "Pike was the worst foster father I ever lived with, what he did to me….what happened to me though shaped me into the person I am today, he gave me the determination to bring people to justice. I wasn't going to let his actions shape who I was, and…while I was…high…I…Hetty I saw my mother." He admitted, "She told me to hold on and that I would help people someday, I like to think I helped her dream come true." He told her.

 


	5. Chapter 5

1986- 1987.

It has been a while since I have seen your son, he was in rehab and then he went to stay with a nice woman for a few months.

She is a Hispanic woman; she had no other children with her in the placement since Callen arrived there.

He looked well rested and I honestly think he has put on some weight. He does not look as gaunt as he has for a while. The woman he is staying with is a child psychologist, who is working with him to get his confidence back and he's been studying at home, although from what I gather his grades are back up and his GPA is a 3.9 so college is still on the cards for him.

The one thing I am pleased to report that Pike was sentence to twenty years in a federal prison for his crimes and will no longer be a threat to your boy, I have contacted AK, so hopefully Pike will not make it out of prison alive.

* * *

Callen shuddered at that, Reinhardt had been ruthless in his protection of him. He was however pleased that Pike hadn't made it out, knowing that he breathed just a tad easier.

He got up and paced the light and airy room that Hetty had set aside for him to read in, opening the window, he breathed in the scent of the sea air that floated on the breeze.

He walked back to the armchair and picked the book back up, he hoped that Ms Gonzales was mentioned in the book, he remembered her and his time there fondly. It had only been a few months, but he had improved in leaps and bounds. It was, he remembered, a peaceful time in his life and it had been around the same time as he had taken his finals, the quiet he had needed to be able to get himself into a good headspace, and not flinch at every little noise had been welcome.

He noticed a picture tucked into the pages of this journal opening the envelope he smiled, it was Maria Gonzales and himself at 16 and unlike most of the other pictures, he was actually smiling.

Hetty walked in and placed a sandwich on a table near him; she looked over his shoulder and smiled.

"A friend?" she asked as she passed him a beer.

Callen smiled, "The first person to save my life…kind of, Maria Gonzales." He handed her the picture and she sat in the next chair as he took a bite from his sandwich. "It's good." He said in thanks to her.

"She was a foster carer?" Hetty asked.

Callen nodded, "yeah, she was kinda my halfway house, after rehab. She was a therapist and she helped me come to terms with what Pike did to me…I know I said I didn't really talk, but to be honest Hetty I didn't know she was a therapist, not at the time, she was just someone who genuinely cared…and I needed that." He told her.

"Was she different than the Rostoffs?" Hetty asked.

Callen nodded with a smile, "The Rostoffs were great and always would be my favorite, and I loved Alina. Having a little sister was nice…But Maria; she was the first one to take an interest in me. Not me the foster child, but me the boy…to find out what I liked, what interested me. To make me believe I was going to be able to have a life outside of the system."

He picked up the book and read on.

* * *

Maria Gonzales is a good woman; she is a child therapist I hired who had a foster care license, we managed to get your son placed with her and she has helped him with the last part of his healing.

I saw him when he arrived with her, he was nervous and afraid he wouldn't look at anyone and he jumped with the slightest noise. When I saw what had become of him even after the rehab therapy, I was saddened. The boy had already had such a harsh life but he had always had a spark of defiance, which I had seen in you and his mother, within him. The attack on him by Pike had driven this out.

Maria has no children placed with her and has gladly taken on the role as protector and healer for the boy.

I will check in with her weekly as to how he is progressing. Callen has seen me and thinks I am Maria's cousin.

Callen smiled remembering the dark haired man who came to visit Maria every week, what was his name? Carlos that was it. Now he could see the similarities between Cousin Carlos and Michael Reinhardt.

I have just gotten back from my first check in with Maria.

It has taken Callen a week but he left his room for meals only at first, then he started to answer questions however, he would not make eye contact. After a few days, he started staying downstairs for longer and longer periods. He has been playing outside with Maria's dog, Chica and he spends a good amount of time down the bottom of her garden talking to the dog. She does not know what it is about the animal that draws him, but she is encouraging it so far.

Maria has told me that he will not mention that man's name, and still will not sleep for fear he will come back. I have been invited to stay for the weekend an opportunity that I cannot pass up, so Cousin Carlos is going to take your son to a baseball game.

I approached Callen about going to a ball game and he looked at me with suspicious eyes, for a moment I wondered if he remembered me as the janitor from his time in hospital. The cover story allows for this as Carlos is a janitor in the local hospital, but he nodded after a prompt from Maria.

* * *

He sat in the back of my car watching me the whole drive from Maria's to Candlestick Park. It was a long journey and we would be back after dark but I deliberately did not offer to stay somewhere else overnight, he needs to know he can trust me and other people in general.

He watched the Sun rise on our journey down and we stopped for breakfast in a small diner. He was very quiet and timid and surprised when, as he would not talk, I ordered his favorite breakfast. I smiled as it arrived, his eyes lit up for a second there was a hint of a smile, but he still would not talk except to say thank you to the waitress who brought our food.

I told him about the game we were going to see today and showed him the tickets so he could see that was exactly where we were going. I handed over a program for the game and he grinned slightly as he went through the stats on the pages.

He asked me what he should call me and I smiled as I told him Carlos would be fine. I did not want to pressure him in any way.

The day was one unlike I have ever experienced, we watched the game, he ate corndogs and hotdogs and popcorn and drank soda's and caught the game ball, this elicited the first true smile I have seen from him in years.

By the time we left to go home he was chatting excitedly about the game and fell asleep in the car on the journey home.

It was nearly one a.m. by the time we arrived back at Maria's, I gave her a bag full of souvenirs that I had brought for him and had Maria wake him.

He jumped at her touch but smiled briefly when he realized that I had brought him home safe and unharmed. I do not know if it helped him at all, but I enjoyed spending the day with a boy I have come to care for as much as my own daughter.

* * *

Callen smiled as he dragged the memory to his mind, it had helped…it had helped a lot, the trip with Uncle Carlos had reaffirmed his faith that all men were not out to harm him and that in some cases he could trust others.

He smiled as Hetty walked back into the room and decided this was one memory he wanted to share with her.

 


	6. Chapter 6

He had talked long into the night with Hetty and about how Reinhardt, 'Uncle Carlos' had spent one of the best days of his childhood with him. She had enjoyed hearing about the trip, but had eventually retired at one am, and had suggested that he go to bed soon.

Moreover, he had slept well that night, dreams of Maria and Cousin Carlos' trip filled his mind.

He woke up with a smile as he walked down the stairs and stopped as he heard voices in Hetty's kitchen.

"Are you sure he's alright, he isn't at his house and his cell phone is switched off, I'm worried Hetty." Sam's voice came floating to him.

"I can assure you Mr. Callen is fine, He's looking through evidence in the Reinhardt case." She replied.

"But he's never been out of touch like this except for when he went after the Comescus. I mean how do we know we got them all or what if he's found something and he's gone searching for his father alone, you know what sort of trouble he can get into. He needs someone to watch his back."

"And this is why you found it necessary to invade my home at this early hour of the morning?" Hetty asked having heard her loose floorboard and knowing that Callen was listening.

"He's my partner Hetty, my family, he's been through so much…I am worried, what if something has happened to him?" he snapped.

Callen stood outside the door and debated on going in and talking to Sam, he looked down at the book in his arms, 1988 – 1991. College years, these were safe, he had left the system at that point. Nevertheless, how would Sam react to the fact that there were other books out there? He was not sure…

"Then I would assume that you'd be there to save my ass as usual." Callen said walking into the room.

He put the book down and grabbed a mug of coffee that Hetty placed on the counter with a few slices of toast, "Eat Mr. Callen." She ordered.

He drank the coffee and looked at the toast, mentally wishing it would turn into a breakfast burrito.

Sam smiled at the look on his partners face.

"You didn't call." Sam said looking at the book next to the plate of toast.

Callen moved the book closer to him, "I've been busy."

Sam sighed and drank his own coffee as Hetty gave a small nod and walked out of the room.

* * *

"Need some help?" Sam asked, he did not want to upset Callen, but for him to not be at work for a few days, something was up with him.

"I was reading." Callen said and threw the toast in the trash, he was not looking forward to reading more, and he had just lost his appetite.

"G…?" Sam stood in his way.

"I'm fine Sam; you've seen me now go back to work." Callen moved the book out of Sam's eye line.

Sam did not move, "G…man, you look like Hell, what's in those books?"

"Evidence." Callen sighed he was not going to lie to his partner.

"So why do you have to be the one to go over it, are there more books?" Sam asked.

Callen nodded, "there are and I'll read them and write a report."

"What's in them G, I'll help and we can get you back on…" Sam reached for a book while talking and Callen dropped the one he was holding.

"NO!" He snatched the book back from Sam, "No…" he reiterated calmer. "I can do this."

Sam stepped back, "G…what's in the books?"

Callen sighed, they were evidence and he knew he could not keep it from his partner. "My life, all of my life Sam, from when my mom was shot…right up to…" He looked at the book, "Well this one is 1988-1991."

"Hetty shouldn't have let you read these…they should have been processed for evidence."

Callen moved a half step back, "I needed to read them, and I needed to know if he knew…"

"Is your name in there?" Sam asked stepping back himself, giving Callen the space he was craving.

Callen shook his head, "No…he didn't know," He put the book he was holding down and turned to make himself another coffee, "I don't want everyone reading them Sam, there's stuff in there…bad stuff…from when I was a kid, it's not relevant to the investigation, it's just relevant to me. I didn't want anyone from the team reading them." He handed Sam a mug of coffee, as a kind of peace offering.

Sam nodded in thanks. "You should let someone see them, just in case you miss something."

Callen knew Sam's words were right, but he shook his head, "I'll share with you…most of them…Some…they can't be read, not by anyone."

"But G…what if…"

"No!" Callen stood firm, "If you wanna help, then you can read…" he looked through the pile, he found a safe year, "This one…" he handed 1994- 1999 over to Sam.

Sam put the book down, "Maybe I should go over the one's you've already read, just in case."

Callen sighed, Sam was stubborn. "Fine." He snapped and walked over to the read pile of book he'd left in Hetty's day room he picked up the first one, there wasn't anything too bad in that one.

"Ok this is the first book." Callen flipped the book to him.

Sam looked at the pile Callen had read, "Which one don't you want me to read." He asked.

Callen looked at the books and shrugged. He picked up the 1984/85 book. "Any of those are fine," he said absently twirling the other book in his hand, "I'll take this one."

Sam smiled, G could convince anyone of anything, but there was no way Sam bet that Callen had read those books out of order.

"You've read that one G." he said.

Callen shook his head, "Haven't." he lied not looking at Sam.

"G!" Sam exclaimed as he tried to take the book, "You need to let me read it…Let me in, I won't betray you, I won't talk about the book, if there is nothing in there that pertains to the case I'll leave it, I'll say nothing and forget I saw it." He promised.

Callen backed up…he wanted to argue, he wanted to take the book and burn it…he wanted to wish he had never read it. Then he looked up and saw Hetty watching from the door.

She had called Sam and asked him to come over he had been set up.

His shoulders sagged and he looked at Sam in defeat. "When did she call?" he asked slumping into the wing-backed chair he had spent the last few days in.

Sam chuckled knowing that eventually Callen would have seen through their ruse.

"She called me in her office yesterday morning, she is worried about you, we all are." He added.

"I'm fine." Callen replied as Hetty closed the door and left for the day, "Really Sam…" his voice sounded hollow to his own ears.

"You need help G, Hetty's right, you shouldn't be doing this alone, let me have your back." He reached for the book.

Wordlessly Callen nodded and handed it over to Sam to read, "Don't judge me on this Sam…please…"

Sam took the book and walked over to another chair in the same room.

"You gonna read your next book while I do this?" Sam asked.

"Yeah…?" Callen said sounding unconvincing.

Sam put the book down, "Ok you wanna talk me through what's in this or do you wanna let me just read it?"

"Just read it." Callen snapped, forgetting the book he was going to read he walked away leaving Sam to his task.

* * *

Sam read the diary, occasionally he looked up to see Callen pacing the garden outside the room he was in. he had a hard time reading some of it, he wiped his eyes reading some of the abuse his friend had been through.

Eventually he put the book down and walked out to the walled garden that Callen was pacing.

"G?" Sam said and watched as Callen jumped. He was surprised, Callen usually knew when someone was near him; he had worrying as no one ever got the drop on his partner.

"Sam." Callen turned and sized his partner up, mentally bracing himself for the onslaught of…'How could you let him do that to you?' or 'Why didn't you stop him?' and the rest of the questions he'd been asked after people found out about that part of his life.

Sam took a step towards Callen who reflexively took a step back.

He opened his hands palms up, a gesture of appeasement. "G…You are right there was nothing in there that would help in the investigation," he said his voice and body showing a calmness he did not feel.

Callen stopped as his knees hit the wall to Hetty's herb garden. He could not look his friend in the eye.

"I wanted to find out about my father….about me…but I never thought…" he trailed off waiting for Sam to say something…anything, to let him know how he felt.

Finally the pressure got too much for him. "Say something!" he snapped looking over at Sam.

Sam sat on the other wall of the garden; he didn't know what he could say. "G…" he started, he grabbed G's hand. "Callen… Stop!"

Callen looked up at the anger in Sam's face and pulled his hand away from Sam's grip, "I'll talk to Hetty about getting you another partner in the morning. You won't want to work with me anymore… now you know I'm damaged…I'm…" he stopped as Sam interrupted.

"It wasn't your fault G, you were a kid and you were betrayed by people who should have protected you."

"But…I…"

"No…don't go there G, Reinhardt should have pulled you out of there, he should have told you who he was…if he couldn't raise you he should have found someone who could…" Sam said.

"Hetty asked you to read these didn't she?" Callen asked.

Sam nodded, "That book in particular, she said that you needed to talk to someone."

"Dammit Sam, I already talked to someone!" Callen snapped.

"But this case has…"

"Yeah…This case has dragged it all up again, the wounds are as fresh as they were then," Callen stopped and scratched his arm, "Dammit…even the need to use is back…"

Sam looked up in shock, "You're not gonna are ya?" he asked.

Callen shook his head, "No…no I'm not…but damn him…why write these books Sam? Why leave it here for anyone to find?"

"I don't think they were intended for anyone G, They were intended to go to your father…"

Callen sighed, "But I checked his address books, there's not even a name or address to send them to."

Sam moved closer to Callen and smiled as his partner relaxed again.

"Maybe they were for you to find." Sam suggested.

"He knew where I was, he could have given them to me…I could have talked to him, asked about my father." Callen stood up and walked back into the house.

* * *

Sam followed picking up the book as he walked past it and dropping it next to Callen on the small side table by the chair he'd sunk into.

"Maybe it was Reinhardt's way of letting you know you are more than your past, that you were never alone…"

"I felt alone." Callen's voice was uncharacteristically soft.

Sam smiled, "But you weren't…he was there then, but he's gone now…and you're still not alone, Deeks found that roll of film with your father on…he handed it to you rather than evidence…Hetty and the rest of us will be here for you as well."

He sank into the chair facing Callen and looked him in the eyes, "You can move past this, there is more for you. I don't know if your father is still alive, I hope he is and maybe one day he can read most of these. Maybe you'll be sitting together here, and you'll be able to ask him all the questions you are asking me."

"Maybe." Callen sighed. "It just hurts, he was so close, and I know he helped me, but he could have gotten me out of the system, Hetty could have, I could have found a family…but I didn't why Sam, Why do I have to be the one to not get fostered. She took on Hunter and Stevens and Sullivan…but not me…"

Sam held onto the book and looked Callen in the eye, "Who knows with Hetty, but maybe she was, like Reinhardt, holding out hope that your father would come for you one day."

"I'm fed up of hoping." Callen admitted.

Sam smiled, "Ok," he picked up the last few books and they shared them out amongst them, "You want College and the CIA…or DEA and NCIS?" he asked.

Callen laughed knowing his friend was trying to make him feel better, "Whichever…" he took the DEA pile of books and they started to read.

After an hour or so of Sam and Callen reading and taking any notes that would help them, Callen stopped and closed his book.

"Thanks Sam." He said simply.

Sam nodded he said nothing and he needed no words.

Callen knew that for the rest of this journey down memory lane, Sam and the team had his back…and if he ever met his father, Sam would be there on his six to help him through that too.

He smiled for a second, he wondered if Reinhardt was watching over him still, maybe he'd be happy to see that even though he hurt from reading and reliving his past, he hoped somehow somewhere Reinhardt knew he was grateful to the old man for watching out for him and for giving his life to protect him and his father.

"Thanks." Callen breathed quietly.

Sam looked up from his book, "You say something?" he asked.

Callen shook his head, "Nope." He walked to the window halfway there dropped the book he'd just finished into the box with the others. He closed the window and looked into the sky with a smile.

No matter what things were going to be ok and maybe one day he could share this with his father.

It was…as always, another piece in the puzzle that was G. Callen's life.

 


End file.
